


one man down

by psalmanazar (jocondite)



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-02
Updated: 2010-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jocondite/pseuds/psalmanazar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the <a href="http://wintergameskink.livejournal.com/4328.html?thread=6246632#t6246632">prompt on the kinkmeme</a> about Johnny teaching Evan to give a blowjob.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one man down

"You want to _what_ ," Johnny said blankly, keeping his door mostly closed and peering at Evan suspiciously through the small gap. Evan looked like he was dying of embarrassment, but the constipated look wasn't exactly new for him, so Johnny couldn't be entirely sure.

"Johnny, just let me in," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "People are going to hear."

"You're worried that people are going to hear you _proposition me for sex_ ," Johnny repeated, to make absolutely sure that they were on the same page and that he hadn't had a total mental break, and also, partly, to make Evan do that awkward thing with his shoulders again. They hunched up, right on schedule.

"Johnny."

"You're crazy," Johnny said flatly, but he stepped back and opened the door. Evan followed him in, and sighed in relief when the door closed behind him. "What the fuck is going through your thick skull? I'm not stupid enough to fall for such an obvious set up." He paused, considering the slight possibility that Evan was serious. "Or taste-impaired enough to sleep with you anyway, full stop."

"You don't have to do anything," Evan said, stepping forward. He looked determined. Johnny stepped back. It was almost choreographed, action and reaction. "Just let me suck you off."

Johnny stepped back further, but he stumbled a little at that. "Have you lost your mind? Or did you lose a bet?"

“I’m serious,” Evan said. He looked serious. There was a certain set to his jaw and a certain steely-minded focus in his eyes. It was an expression Johnny was fairly accustomed to, in the context of warming up, waiting to take the ice. He wasn’t used to it being directed at him – or, more crucially, having it directed at his dick, and Evan’s intentions upon it.

It still made no possible sense.

"I just want - I need to try it on someone, okay? I need to - I _want_ to, I want to go down on a guy. Just to see." 

Evan stopped moving forward just before Johnny's retreating back hit his hotel room wall, but he was still too close.

"To see if you like it?" Johnny asked incredulously. "I'm pretty sure that if you want to do it, you're going to like it."

"To see if I'm _good at it_.” 

Evan said it like it was self-evident, like Johnny was the dim one. That almost made sense, given Evan’s crazy need to be the best and his weirdnesses at normal-people interaction, but the part where Evan had decided to use Johnny as his experimental control or crash-test dummy or whatever, that didn’t.

"And you thought of me."

"Yeah.” Evan flushed a little under his incredulous stare. “Well, I mean, I asked some other people first, but they said no."

"People turned you down? How truly, truly shocking,” Johnny said. “Who?"

He didn't exactly want to engage - he wanted to get the crazy person out of his room, and resume his evening plans, which involved a face mask and Tolstoy -- but this sounded too good to pass up. He was weak when it came to gossip, and even weaker when it came to gossip that humiliated Evan Lysacek.

Evan looked like he really didn't want to answer. Johnny kept looking up at him, eyebrows arched, and finally Evan mumbled, "Well, I asked the French guy, because I figured, you know, French, but he, um, he looked me up and down, in that really superior way, and then he just, like, walked off. And I asked one of the ice dancers, but he told me he wasn't legal, and I don't know if that was true, but I figured pushing was a bad idea. And then I asked Abbott, and he said he was taken -"

"You asked _Jeremy_?" Johnny broke in, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "You asked Jeremy before me? He has freckles on his dick!"

“How do you know that?”

“I inferred,” Johnny said coldly. “Oh my god, your taste is revolting.”

“You sound offended,” Evan said, with cunning. He was pathetically easy to read, especially when he thought he was being manipulative. “Did you want me to come to you first?”

“No!”

“I would have,” Evan said. “I mean, if I was asking people in order of how much I wanted to blow them.” He ignored Johnny’s dropped jaw and swept on, but there was a certain light in his eyes. “But you hate me, so I wasn’t going to come to you until my easier options had been checked out.”

"I do hate you," Johnny agreed. "Which is why I will not be letting you try out your blowjob technique on me, and why you need to leave." He shook his head. “Of all the sentences I never thought I’d say -- This is crazy.”

“A free blowjob,” Evan said cajolingly. “Come on, who turns down free sex? You don’t need to do anything, you just have to stand there. Or sit there. Whatever you want.”

“There’s no such thing as a free blowjob.” Johnny had learnt this from tragic experience. And anyway – god, why was he even treating this like something that could be discussed reasonably? “I wouldn’t trust my dick anywhere near your teeth, full stop.”

Evan’s eyes slid away from Johnny's face, and down, and focused with disturbing military-grade precision on his crotch. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

The staring made Johnny feel self-conscious, and just the tiniest bit hard, which was annoying. “Trust me, if you touch me, I’ll hurt _you_ ,” he said, but he was watching Evan’s face watching him, and it was – interesting.-

Intent, focused, and kind of hungry. Definitely interesting. There had been rumours about Evan for years, but Johnny had never been able to find out anything more concrete than whispers about furtive bad handjobs with third-rate European ice dancers, and some dry-humping with Timmy when he was really young, if Timmy could be believed, which was doubtful.

Evan looked up at him again, searching Johnny’s face for something, and whatever it was, he seemed to find it, because he sank slowly down onto his knees. “Please?”

When Johnny didn't say anything, Evan reached up, slowly, and popped the top button on his jeans.

Which was the perfect moment to run out into the hallway and start screaming harassment, just for how much it would kill Evan, but Johnny didn’t say anything. Evan worked his zipper down, slowly, almost respectfully.

“Can you—“

“These are designer jeans,” Johnny said, slapping his hand away and pushing them off his hips himself.

Evan stared at the shape of his dick through his briefs with that expression in his face again, hungry and a little incredulous. Then he leaned forward and breathed damply, right up close, and that was so hot that Johnny got harder, enough to be noticeable.

“Stop drooling on me,” he said, flustered. “Number one rule when it comes to giving head: remove clothes first. Don’t you know anything?”

He expected Evan to snarl, but Evan just nodded. He slid a finger under the waistband of Johnny’s underwear, and it made Johnny shiver, in a way he wasn’t sure was good or bad, or just anticipatory. Evan was touching him. He and Evan didn’t touch, except when they shook hands after a competition, one of them angry and one of them smug, or when they were forced to hug for the cameras, and they always pulled apart as quickly as possible.

“Can I?”

“Pull them down,” Johnny said. “Don’t get fancy and use your teeth or anything. That’s not hot, it’s ridiculous.”

Evan looked like he was filing the idea away anyway. He tugged at the waistband and carefully took out Johnny’s dick. He let the elastic rest between Johnny’s dick and balls, and Johnny thought about scolding him, but it didn’t feel bad.

“Well?” he said. “You wanted to blow me. Go ahead.”

“Yeah,” Evan said, but it still took a few moments before he leaned forward and licked. God, he was inept. He looked like it had taken considerable determination to do that, but once contact had been made – oh god, Johnny’s brain was coming up with stupid sci-fi metaphors – he seemed to get back a little of his confidence, and ran his tongue around the head. Johnny did his best not to respond in any way, and Evan circled it a few more times, and then took it into his mouth.

It wasn’t bad, exactly, but it wasn’t great. Evan sucked at him, and he was eager enough, Johnny had to give him that, but he was hopelessly unskilled, even when he started taking more of Johnny’s dick into his mouth instead of just licking around the edges. It was almost mechanical. No, it was mechanical.

Johnny was tempted to just stand there and not respond at all, in the hope of making Evan get all self-conscious and desperate to please, but he wasn’t very good at staying quiet, even if staying quiet meant undermining Evan’s intolerable self-confidence. “No,” he said. “Not like that, use your hand as well, and I have balls, you should touch them too. Don’t you remember what you like? Do that.”

Evan glared up at him, his mouth still full of Johnny’s dick, and okay, that was one of the best things Johnny had ever seen in his life. If only he could take a photo. He wasn’t even sure what would be better, publishing the picture far and wide, or keeping it tucked away as private ammunition.

“Have you done this before, ever?” Johnny asked, and Evan shook his head incrementally. “Well, you’re not going to be able to deepthroat, don’t even try, but you can definitely do better. Don’t be such a robot. _And touch my balls.”_

The look Evan gave him was a concentrated _fuck you_ , but he squeezed them gently through the cotton, and Johnny made a pleased sound and settled his feet a little further apart. The pressure and tempo changed, like Evan was earnestly trying to mix it up, to take more, and Johnny shut his eyes and let him, tilted his chin up and rolled his head back against the hotel wall. 

For a while he concentrated on the blowjob and ignored the giver, and that was great, it was great - and then Evan made a faint grunting sound and reminded him that it wasn’t just anyone, it was Evan Lysacek, on his knees, and that was even better. It didn’t count as fantasizing about your rival when he was actually present, Johnny was pretty sure, and it felt wrong, and dirty, and therefore awesome.

And then he felt it, Evan’s throat going tight around the head of his cock, heard him splutter, and opened his eyes in time to see Evan pull back, coughing a little, his eyes bright with water. “Did you just choke yourself on my cock?” Johnny asked incredulously. “Of course you did. I tell you not to deepthroat, and you decide to fucking go for it.”

“You told me I couldn’t,” Evan corrected, rasping. He was rubbing at his jaw like it pained him. “I can.”

“You _can’t_ ,” Johnny said, “you _choked_ ,” and Evan got that horribly determined look on his face. Johnny knew him, so he wasn’t very surprised when Evan went down on him again. _Right_ down.

Johnny was going to have to walk back some of his earlier commentary, because it felt amazing; Evan had found a direct line to the nerves coiled around his spinal column, and he was trying to suck them out like angel-hair pasta. He touched Evan’s hair, which was something he hadn’t meant to do. It was tacky with some sort of product, so he wiped his hand off on Evan’s shoulder and curled it around the base of Evan’s neck instead. Evan’s skin was warm and human, beneath his hair, under his collar, and Johnny’s thumb was resting over the pulse point in his neck. It felt intimate, more than Evan’s mouth on his dick. He could feel Evan’s blood beating, his throat working. If he squeezed, he could make him splutter again.

Evan reached up and took hold of his hips like he was trying to encourage Johnny to move. Johnny rolled them experimentally, felt the constriction of Evan’s throat, heard him grunt, and then Evan pressed his fingers in deeper, forcing his hips forward again.

If it was anyone else, Johnny would be concerned, but Evan was a big boy and he could take care of himself. He was asking for it, anyway, his eyes intent on Johnny’s face, so Johnny let go and let himself fuck Evan’s mouth. Throat. 

Fuck.

“Okay, I’m going to -- ” Johnny warned breathlessly when he got close, trying to push him off. Evan didn’t get it right away, and when he finally pulled back Johnny accidentally came on his face. 

Well, his cheek. Mostly.

“Oops,” Johnny said, and giggled. He was always a little loopy right after he’d come, and that had been a blowout of an orgasm. The facial had really been an accident, but it was a great one. Evan’s face was a picture, caught somewhere between outrage and arousal.

“Stop laughing at me,” Evan said. His voice sounded gravelly. His other cheek was turning pink.

“I’m sorry, it’s funny,” Johnny said helplessly. He sagged back against the wall, and tried to catch his breath. “There are tissues in the bathroom, go wipe yourself off.”

He had his jeans done up by the time Evan had come back, and he felt a lot more sober. 

Evan Lysacek had just sucked him off.

“Um,” Evan said, standing in the bathroom doorway. He looked awkward, and flushed, and his mouth was still swollen. He’d slicked his hair back with water, so it looked damp and greasy again. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Johnny said. “Really don’t. Ever.”

Evan nodded. “Right.” He brushed past, his shoulders hunched up again, and set his hand on the door handle.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“Did you learn what you came here for?”

Evan shrugged, looking away. “Yeah,” he said. “I think so.”

“Are you going to go jerk off?”

“I’m not telling you that,” Evan said, like that was overstepping the line, when five minutes ago he’d been deepthroating him and urging him deeper. Johnny figured that was a yes.

“Do it here,” he said, surprising himself. A blowjob was a blowjob, but did he actually want to see Evan naked? “Get on the bed, and take your pants off.”

Evan had the strangest expression on his face, but he did what Johnny said without arguing. He was surprisingly good at taking orders. He kicked off his shoes and clambered onto the edge of Johnny’s cushy hotel bed, and the mattress gave a little under his weight. He popped the button on his fly and pulled down the zipper, and looked at Johnny for extra instructions.

“Take them off,” Johnny reminded him. “Right off.”

Evan was anything but smooth about it, disentangling himself from his jeans. His legs were way too long, and muscled, and very brown against the coverlet. He had good thighs. Johnny thought about making him take his shirt and jacket off, too, and then decided he didn’t want that much naked Evan in his room.

He was wearing plaid boxers, for fuck’s sake.

“Take your dick out,” Johnny said, and Evan pulled it through the slit instead of pushing his boxers down, and gave himself a few preliminary tugs. It blocked Johnny’s view a little, but whatever.

Evan was hard. Very hard. Johnny was looking right at Evan Lysacek’s dick, which was looking back at him. It was funny-looking, like all dicks, but kind of nice. It looked like it would feel good in his hand, in his mouth, but he wasn’t going to touch Evan. It was a good thing he’d come already; it kept him from doing anything too stupid. Or at least anything more stupid than telling Evan to beat off in front of him. 

That was pretty stupid, but also stupidly hot.

“Did I tell you to start jerking off?” Johnny asked, and Evan flinched, taking his hand away. “No.”

He stared at Evan unblinkingly and Evan stared back at him, twitching a little under his gaze.

“Please,” Evan said finally, like it killed him to say it.

“Please what?” Johnny said, but he didn’t wait for Evan to answer. “Fine, touch yourself. Show me how you get yourself off. Make it interesting.”

Evan’s hand went eagerly back to his dick, and then he was fisting it, hard, jerking it back and forth with what looked like an actual deathgrip. Johnny couldn’t imagine it felt good, but Evan was making the faintest small grunting noises, his eyes shut, and seriously, it looked punishing as hell.

“That’s how you jerk off?” he asked incredulously. “I’m amazed you can get off at all. Slow down – no, right down. Take it very, very slow.”

“Johnny,” Evan said pleadingly, but he slackened his grip and his speed, pulling slowly at himself, his face screwing up like it was torture. “I need –”

“I don’t care about what you need,” Johnny said. He watched Evan stroke himself slowly for a minute or two, his eyes fixed on Johnny’s face, begging. “Take your hand away.”

“ _Johnny._ ”

“Why did you come here with this stupid idea?” Johnny asked, ignoring him. “What made you tap on my door and ask to blow me? Be honest, Evan. I know it’s hard for you, but –”

“I wanted to,” Evan said, liked it was forced out of him. “I’m retired. I don’t have to be so careful, I can -- I used to think about it, all the time.”

“Sucking cock?” Johnny asked, and Evan nodded. “You can touch yourself,” he said, and Evan sighed. “Slowly,” he added. “Who did you think about?”

“Lots of guys,” Evan said thickly.

“Did you think about me?”

Evan nodded. His throat moved, like he wanted to say something, or beg again, and Johnny cut him off. “So, all the time you were mocking how much of a man I was and sucking USFSA dick, you really wanted to suck mine? Or just anyone’s? What a slut you are, Evan.”

“ _Please_."

Johnny made him wait a little longer for it. "Fine," he said carelessly. "Get yourself off.”

Evan shut his eyes and jerked at his cock, hard. Johnny would have slapped the fuck out of anyone who treated his own dick like that, but Evan was undeniably into it, his breath coming in harsh, hard pants, and he came _fast_ , with Johnny watching him and with one low throttled-down moan, like he’d taught himself not to make any noise. All the coiled tension went out of him, and after a few moments he blinked his eyes open and stared back at Johnny.

He looked dazed, his face unusually soft and open. Then he made an abortive movement like he was going to wipe his hand off on the bedspread, which was fucking gross and not happening on Johnny’s watch.

Johnny was about to remind him that there were tissues in the bathroom, and then he had a better thought. “Eat it,” he said. He wasn’t sure if he expected Evan to do it, but he did, bringing the back of his hand up to his mouth and carefully licking his hand and wrist clean. His tongue was very pink.

“Fuck,” Johnny said, and Evan jolted like he’d just been brought back to earth. “Good boy,” he added condescendingly, trying to get his voice back under control.

Colour flared in Evan’s face under the layers of orange, and he ducked his head, like he was ashamed, or pleased, or both.

Johnny turned away. “Get dressed, and get out.” He heard the muffled noises of Evan scrambling back into his jeans and the whine of his zipper going up, but he resolutely didn’t watch. He heard Evan struggle back into his shoes, stamp his feet, and then there was a pause, like Evan wanted to say something.

“Johnny.”

“What?”

Evan didn’t answer, and Johnny finally turned around, irritated. Evan had his hands in the pockets of his jacket. His face was back to its usual bland smugness, like a mask that had slid right back down.

“Was I okay?” Evan asked, his eyes fixed somewhere over Johnny’s shoulder.

There were many possible answers to that, some of them meaner and less truthful than others. “For a beginner.”

“I can practice.”

“You can leave,” Johnny said, and this time Evan went without arguing. The door closed behind him.

His room smelled like sex. Evan Lysacek had gone down on him. Evan ‘I Give Five Hundred Percent To My Chosen Task’ Lysacek wanted to _practice_ giving head, and Johnny knew Evan well enough to know that that meant that he could probably expect future approaches. He wasn’t sure what he would say.

“I hate my life,” he told his empty room, and it sounded like a lie.


End file.
